Hurting
by Sparrowclaw of ThunderClan
Summary: It is such a tragedy when a kit goes to StarClan. They leave the world without ever becoming a warrior, and then they must bare the rest of eternity as a kit, until they fade away, with no one to remember them. It hurts, and it hurts so horribly. A short, sad one-shot.


**This is a short, sad one-shot, mostly of a StarClan kit expressing her feelings. There is no dialogue, it is almost fully explaination. I wrote it in first person because I thought could get my point across better.**

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One always wishes for a purpose in life, a reason to live. For a young clan cat, that narrows down to a single thing. Becoming a warrior. Now there are those who choose the path of a medicine cat, but that doesn't mean they're not a warrior. Being a warrior means putting your clan's needs ahead of your own, and a medicine cat does just that.

A kit wants nothing more than to grow up and find their place in the clan. A kit is naive, but a kit has a wise instinct that was branded inside of them before they took their first breath.

Because of this, they had a purpose. They had a purpose from the very beginning. And when one has a reason to live, the other instinct is to fulfill this purpose, and live for it. And when one does not accomplish one's purpose, their time in StarClan is a time of sadness.

Many a kit have gone to StarClan before they were six moons old. A kit is born so fragile, with a slender frame and a weak system. The softest blow or mildest poison is a threat. And when something is threatened, it often dies.

Many kits die. It is just the way of the wild; young are easy prey to death. But a clan cat always has a purpose.

My name is Mosskit. You probably recognize the name. I, too, had a purpose in life. I wanted to become a warrior, but I died, because of a wise decision my mother made. It is even harder to accept that I did not fulfill my purpose when I died out of wisdom.

I never had a warrior name, not ever. My two siblings became warriors. Stonefur died too, but he accomplished his purpose. My sister still lives, having become more than she ever dreamed she could be.

But I died. My name remains as Mosskit, and it hurts. It hurts to watch my brother and sister grow, while I remain a kit. But I have accepted it. I have wisdom, inherited from my mother, and out of my wisdom I have decided that this is the way it has to be.

There are many other kits. Some never lose their childish ways, still playing chase until they fade from world altogether, but others wasted away in their own gloom. I did neither. I am wise, but I have accepted that I am a kit, and that I will be for the rest of eternity.

Mistkit and Nightkit, sisters of Tigerstar, are often very grim. They wanted to become warriors, but they didn't. Their brother was going to live for all of them, but he threw his life away.

On the other hand, Sagekit, Specklekit, and Driftkit, Brightsky's kits, whom you have not met formally before, never obtained a mature sense of solemnness. They play on, though they are even older than I.

Because we never became warriors, Adderkit, a WindClan kit who was killed by a snake, founded an all-kit clan that he calls WarriorClan. A cheesy name, but the name has a meaning. The kits play pretend that they are in a real clan, where they train and receive warrior names, and have imaginary apprentices.

I did not join, because it hurt. It hurt to imagine that I had a warrior name, and not receive one from a StarClan-approved leader.

It hurts to speak with my mother. I remember suckling from her tits, and I remember her grooming my fur, but her decision is the reason that I am not a warrior like my brother was and a leader like my sister is. I can't help being withdrawn around her. Snowfur was a real mother to me, just as Bluestar was like a mother to Whitestorm.

When I first arrived, I was confused and depressed. I would never be a warrior. And it hurt so badly. But Snowfur comforted me, and took the hurt away. So Snowfur is the one who raised me, even if I never grew. She guided my maturing mind, if not my maturing body.

So my biological mother is a stranger to me. She smiles at me often, and tries to start a conversation. But it hurts, and it hurts so horribly.

My best friend is Molepaw. He was the son of Sorreltail and Brackenfur, and he was born much later than I was. He died of an strange illness just into his apprenticeship, and all three of his sisters went on to become warriors. He suffered more than I did. It hurt more, the further you got to becoming a warrior. He was very close, but then it ended, and I helped numb the hurt, and we became friends through that.

Molepaw taught me to hunt in StarClan, because no one else had attempted before then. It is not common for kits to learn to hunt. But I suppose it didn't make a big difference, as I would never grow old enough to hunt properly. My size was a difficulty, but Molepaw was a good teacher. He would've made a fantastic warrior, but he died. And it hurt him, and it hurt me, too.

I am also very close to Stonefur. Stonefur was so supportive when he died. He helped numb the hurt, too. He was so selfless, that you could barely tell that he was hurting. He didn't care about his own hurt, only that of others. But I know that he was hurt. It always hurts.

I had a purpose, like every other cat, and I had as soon as I was born. But my purpose never became a reality, because I died, and it hurt.

Why does it have to hurt so much? I hurt when I think of my mother, my father, my sister, and sometimes even my brother. It hurts. It always hurts when you're dead. That's just the way of the wild. And the wild hurts.


End file.
